


Some Assistance Needed

by DenDragon14



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Broken Bones, Cute, Feeding, Fluff, Gen, Good Brother Diego Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Self-Indulgent, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Siblings, spoon feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 14:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18523624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenDragon14/pseuds/DenDragon14
Summary: Even with the apocalypse averted, Five hasn't been able to let go of his addiction. And due to his obsessing over equations that are no longer needed, he is very sleep deprived. He ends up sleep jumping, and after a mishap with the chandelier, Five breaks his arm. Unfortunately, it's his dominant hand, and Five finds it difficult to preform tasks with his non-dominant hand.Who would have thought that eating would be such an ordeal? A sandwich would have been much easier, but he wanted something different for a change.





	Some Assistance Needed

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just something popped into my head while I was at work. Just a cute, little one shot. Also, I might have been hungry while I wrote the majority of this so...  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

"When was the last time you sleep jumped?" Allison asked. Five shrugged and averted his eyes away from his sister.  
  
"Maybe...like when I was eight."  
  
"Have you been sleeping?" _No_ , Dolores scolded in his thoughts, _You haven't. You've been obsessing._ Had he been obsessing? Perhaps a bit, but he'd been managing it. He wasn't uncontrollably writing equations all over the place like a madman...not anymore at least. That had taken a couple weeks to stop and his hand still twitched when he had all the equations floating around in his brain.  
  
"Five," she said, her mother tone lacing his name, "Have you been sleeping?" Five gritted his teeth, reluctant to answer his sister's question; she knew the answer obviously, so why should it be necessary to verbally give a reply. Finally, he shook his head, but said nothing.  
  
"You need to sleep Five," Allison said, her voice was soft but demanding. She placed her hands on his shoulder. "The apocalypse has been averted. You can rest now, you know that right?" Her eyes were so full of sincerity, of love, it was unbearable to look at. Five moved his gaze to stare at his feet.  
  
Slowly, he nodded in response. He understood the apocalypse was averted, he wasn't stupid, but it seemed after nearly fifty years of trying to find a way back home to save his family he just couldn't stop. Perhaps Klaus was right for a change when he said that Five was an addict, an addict to the apocalypse.  
  
That was the first process in recovery, wasn't it? Admitting he had an addiction.

* * *

He supposed that in hindsight it was his own fault for not heeding Allison's words. Several days went by since his first sleep jumping incident and Five knew he was neglecting to get enough sleep. It wasn't as though he wasn't trying; he'd tried hard and even after having some chamomile tea, sleep was just out of reach. He blamed his active mind, the gears never wanted to be quieted and his hand never stilled long before it started itching for a writing utensil.  
  
So he supposed that he was at fault for his broken arm.  
  
He stared at the clunky cast that Grace had made and wrapped around his broken radius. He wasn't used to making mistakes that resulted in his own injury. Well, at least it was only his arm and not his neck. In all his years of being able to preform spatial jumps, he was never fully able to grasp and understand the sleep jumping. Even now, after forty five years in the apocalypse and after becoming a time travelling assassin, he still couldn't understand it.  
  
His subconscious must be a thrill seeker if it decided to teleport him up to the freaking chandelier. And just his luck that the sound of his jumping had jostled him awake, which had caused a large commotion of dangling from the chandelier, swinging back and forth like an ape before plummeting to the ground. The pain hadn't come on immediately. The only thought, as he had lied motionless on the foyer floor, was that he wanted to go back to bed; for once in nearly two months he'd actually been having a decent sleep, meaning that there were no night terrors this time around. But when the pain crept and set in, Five had actually cried. It was a few tears, but they were tears none the less.  
  
When they were children, they'd dealt with many injuries, however Five had never broken any bones. So the pain that radiated all up and down his arm was new for him. He wondered how Klaus had managed with a broken jaw without drugs to numb the pain. In all honesty though, Five wanted to slap himself for being so weak. He shouldn't be this weak- he was a freaking assassin for Pete's sake. He tried to tell himself that the pain he'd felt and the sudden incapacity to do the most mundane of task such as picking up a fork was due to the fact that this was his first broken bone and it was unusual and uncomfortable to have this restraint of a cast on his arm.  
  
He'd gone through the whole day, silently berating himself for his own stupidity. He hated being reminded that he was in a child's body. And here he thought that an old person's bones were supposed to be more fragile and brittle and yet, here he was with a broken arm in cast . Compared to his adult body, the measly thirteen year old vessel was weak and needy and he wondered again why he a necessary eight hours of sleep. How could anyone get anything done if they had to sleep eight hours of the day away?

Somehow though, he had forced himself to sleep for several hours, although he had resorted to sleeping on the floor. All those years of sleeping on the ground and on top of rumble had desensitized him to how hard the surfaces were. The mattress of his bed, although soft and warm and clean, was almost foreign to him.  
  
And when dinner had rolled around, he'd shown up late because Klaus claimed he hadn't wanted to disturb him from his nap. He'd joined the meal late enough that most of his siblings excused themselves within fifteen minutes of him being there. And that was fine by him, he didn't want them to see that he was not at all used to using his nondominant hand and have them offer him his food like a baby being spoon fed.  
  
But, good lord, he was starving.  
  
He'd barely eaten anything all day; he'd spent most of his day moping about the house. Dinner had finished nearly half an hour ago and he still sat at the table, eyeing his food as though it might grow legs and crawl away. Although throughout the meal, Grace and his siblings took notice in the fact that Five wasn't eating, none of them had offered help because they knew they'd get their head bitten off by Five's words if any of them attempted to help. Because God forbid any of them dare to sympathize with him.  
  
Five sighed heavily and placed the fork back on the plate; he'd tried eating with his undamaged hand, but not being ambidextrous or used to using his nondominant hand all he managed was to spill food on the table and nearly onto his clothes. He wished he weren't so stubborn . If he had just pushed his pride aside for a change and asked for help he would have finished this meal when it had still been warm. Now, the plate of stir-fry stared at him, mocking him. Even cold, he still wanted to eat it.  
  
He glanced toward the counter where he spotted a half loaf of bread; he could make himself a sandwich, there always seemed to be a never-ending stock of peanut butter and marshmallows in the house. However, even though he'd never turn down one of those signature sandwiches, he wanted to eat something different for a change. Strangely enough, his taste buds had started to complain a little; a constant onslaught of only coffee, peanut butter, and marshmallows just wouldn't cut it all the time. He really wanted the fucking stir fry.  
  
He wasn't aware that he was being watched until he heard the sound of a cupboard door closing. He glanced toward the sound, surprised to see Diego standing there.  
"Are you going to eat or not?" Diego asked. "That plate doesn't look any less empty when I was in here twenty minutes ago." Five bit his tongue, something he'd gotten used to recently whenever he restrained himself from spitting out a harsh comment that was meant to get under his siblings skin. When had Diego even been here twenty minutes ago? Had he been so focused on his plate of cold food that he'd failed to notice people coming and going from the kitchen? He must be losing his edge.  
  
"I'm starving..."  
  
"Then why don't you eat," his brother asked in annoyance. "It doesn't even look like you touched your food." Five glared at his brother, debating whether he should make it aware to him that he was a moron sometimes.  
  
"I'm left handed, you idiot." Five snapped. He continued to glare up at Diego and waved his left arm at him, which was wrapped in the cast. "Have you tried eating, or doing any task for that matter, with your non-dominant hand when you're not ambidextrous?" He gestured to food he managed to spill over the side of his plate. "I can't even pick up a fucking fork properly..."  
  
God, did he sound pathetic. Diego's eyes softened, his stance relaxing. Diego pulled up a chair next to him and Five could only watch as Diego pulled the plate over and grabbed the fork and put some food on it. He lifted up, offering it out to Five.  
  
"Open." Five pulled away, repulsed at what his brother was trying to do.  
  
"No, you're not spoon feeding me."  
  
"You said you're hungry, right?" Yes, he was starving and he'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't. Diego sighed and lowered the fork back to the plate. He pushed the food back towards Five.  
  
"Then eat it like a dog for all I care." He started to get up, but Five reached out with his good hand, his brushing against Diego's as he started to stand up.  
  
"Diego, wait..." Five's words trailed off as he withdrew into his thoughts. Would he regret this action, of accepting help? In his eyes, it came across as weakness.  
  
_Not a weakness,_ Dolores said. It still eased him that, despite Dolores no longer being physically with him, her voice stayed, hence her guidance stayed. _Consider it as a task where some assistance is needed._ But this was Diego and Five thought it was better than having one of his other siblings here. Klaus would no doubt have attempted that stupid airplane trick that parents pulled on babies and Allison was far too motherly for this type of situation...he didn't even want to think about the others. Diego pulled the plate closer to him again and scooped some of the stir-fry onto the fork and once again offered it out to Five, which, this time he accepted.  
  
Diego smiled.  
  
"Good boy."  
  
Five kicked his brother in the shin.  
  
"Shut it," he grumbled after swallowing the first mouthful. "You tell anyone about this-"  
  
Diego smirked. "Yeah, yeah, muchacho. You'll rip my tongue out."

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope you enjoyed this! I hope that there aren't too many typos or errors. And I'm sorry if the portrayal of using the nondominant hand while having the dominant hand incapacitated is not accurate. I've never broken anything before, so I can't relate personally. Also, I've wanted to read something cute like this so I just wrote this; oddly enough I find spoon feeding rather endearing in the right situation. It's kind of weird, but whatever.  
> And, as always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated!


End file.
